


wanna turn off all the lights

by Authoress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, god there's so much sin how do i tag, inappropriate boners, kageyama has A Thing for hinata's commanding voice, practice becomes awkward very quickly, second-year hinakage, tfw u catch your partner/teammate jerking off to you in the bathroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next whimper is louder, longer, and accompanied with a breathy gasp and the twitch of Kageyama’s sneakers on the tile floor. Realization hits Hinata like a freight train, and he whips back around the corner, leaning against the wall himself, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wanna turn off all the lights

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha im dunking myself in holy water

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. And even if it _was_ supposed to happen this way, it sure as hell wasn’t supposed to happen with _Hinata_.

Kageyama knows what love is supposed to look like (or at least the watered-down, high school version of it). He’s seen the exchange of chocolates and the passing of notes in his classes. He’s watched Yamaguchi’s shy, tentative hand reaching for Tsukishima’s, twining their fingers with a wobbly smile of pure joy when he’s not met with resistance. Kageyama has listened to hours of Yachi ranting about her girlfriend, making the proper ‘hmm’ and ‘ah, I see’ noises where appropriate while Yachi talks about how she misses talking to Kiyoko-chan and Skype just isn’t the same.

_That’s_ what love is supposed to look like. Something meaningful and tender with someone who you’ve admired, or known for years, or someone whose laugh makes your heart flutter. Not this…this…

“Oi, Takeshi!” Hinata’s voice snaps like a whip, sharp and to the point, forcing the first year to look up. “What kind of a receive was that? What are we, _Aoba Johsai_?”

Kageyama’s fairly certain that Seijou’s receives are excellent, but Hinata’s provocation has the intended effect. Takeshi sticks his tongue out petulantly at his senpai. “Whatever, Hinata-san!” He shouts across the court. “I’d like _you_ to try and receive one of Tanaka’s spikes!” Despite his insubordination, Takeshi’s eyes sharpen and his stance shifts to better receive the ball.

The unintended effect of the provocation is, of course, that Kageyama’s stomach flips in an altogether not too unpleasant way. Actually, Hinata’s commanding tone makes the tips of his fingers and toes tingle, makes his grip on the ball weak. It’s maddening; it’s confusing. Kageyama wields his attraction like a toddler would wield a baseball bat—with absolute clumsiness that was going to get him in trouble one day.

“Oh trust me, I have received _plenty_ of Tanaka-san’s spikes,” Hinata mutters darkly to himself, wincing at the memory of Daichi’s relentless practice. Tanaka snickers off to his side. Hinata turns his eyes to Kageyama, bored and a little frustrated with their kouhai. “Kageyama, be a dear and toss the ball again, would you?” Spoken as easily and carelessly as if Kageyama were dirt, when only last year Hinata had feared even the sight of him.

Kageyama has never regretted something so much in his life.

It’s not really his fault though, Kageyama thinks. He didn’t really _mean_ to fall for Hinata. Hell, he hardly even _liked_ the guy…alright, so that was a lie. Hinata grew on Kageyama like some orange, fluffy fungus that Kageyama just kept trying to get rid of but would never go away. Annoying as hell, but great for scaring the kids. And boy did Hinata’s intense mode scare the kids…

“Kageyama?” Hinata raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to get Akise to set instead?”

Right. Volleyball. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Kageyama snaps, nodding at Tanaka. “I’m fine.”

Hinata holds his hands up innocently and backs away. “Just checking. Takeshi, get ready.”

Kageyama doesn’t really listen to Takeshi’s answering holler of ‘I’m always ready!’ nor does he pay much attention to setting. Tanaka was easy to set to, especially when they weren’t in a match. It was Hinata who required the falling toss, the super-focused concentration, all of Kageyama’s setter instinct devoted completely to him. So what if Hinata drew out his highest potential? Plenty of other spikers could have done that, it didn’t mean that Kageyama had to lust after them like an idiot. (He knows in his heart, buried under miles of denial and excuses, that there’s really no one out there who could replace Hinata in volleyball.) He effectively tunes out Hinata’s coaching and Tanaka’s barbs thrown at Takeshi just for the hell of it. He silently tosses, all the while frowning hard at Hinata, like he could puzzle him out through staring alone.

Weird things stuck with him lately. Kageyama remembers Hinata running to his water bottle and gulping it down after running laps outside. He can remember the exact way Hinata’s throat bobbed and a single drop of sweat ran down his cheek, dropping from his jawline just in time for Kageyama to catch himself _staring_. He knows the way Hinata cracks his knuckles and wrings his hands before practice, the exact shade of his skin, what his hair looks like wet and flat, and the motion of his tongue flicking over teeth and lips when he’s focused on the ball.

But none of it was as bad as Hinata’s _voice_. Kageyama knows that no-nonsense Hinata voice like he knows their spiking signals. _That’s not the toss I want! That’s not the toss I want!_ —it repeats in Kageyama’s mind over and over again, reminding him that despite Hinata’s instinctual fear of strong people and cowardly-seeming nature, he could turn on a dime, fearless and antagonistic, to get what he wanted. It was magnificent. It was terrifying.

It was the reason Kageyama was losing sleep, tossing and turning and hearing Hinata snarl in his ear _that’s not good enough_.

“ _That’s not good enough!_ ” Kageyama violently jerks back into the present. Hinata’s face is twisted in a snarl that Takeshi mirrors, Tanaka standing between them.

“We have time until our next match!” Takeshi argues. “So what if my receive isn’t perfect? It’s just a club!” Oh, was that the _wrong_ thing to say.

Hinata’s face loses the hardness of his curled lip and wrinkled brow. Instead, he cocks his head at Takeshi, expression carefully neutral and voice innocently soft and dangerous when he says, “Just a club?” Kageyama’s stomach turns again and his fingers twitch, agitated.

“Did you never consider what volleyball means to the rest of your team?” Hinata asks softly. “What it means to the third years? How the rest of us feel about volleyball?” Takeshi visibly gulps but keeps his face fixed in a scowl.

“But I—”

“Volleyball is a _team_ sport,” Hinata rumbles, stare burning right through the first-year with the kind of intensity that gives Kageyama goosebumps. “We’re only as strong as our weakest link, and right now that’s _you_ , Takeshi. We’re going to fix that _pathetic_ receive whether you like it or not so that you _will_ be a regular next year.”

Hinata’s eyes jump to Kageyama. It’s just a single moment in the endless collection of moments, but the aggression in Hinata’s eyes turns Kageyama’s legs to jelly, makes the next breath he draws in shakily rub raw like sandpaper down his throat. “Kageyama!” Hinata snaps. “You’re an upperclassman now, stop staring off into space! Focus already!”

The last straw, for Kageyama, isn’t exactly clear. It could be the way Hinata’s lip curls and he looks like a wild animal, baring his teeth. It could be the threat of a pink tongue darting out with every sharp word. It could be the fact that Kageyama imagines very clearly what it would feel like for Hinata to sink those canines into his neck, but the point is, he feels himself pop a boner.

In a distant, out-of-body kind of way, Kageyama murmurs, “Oh no.” Hinata, Tanaka, and Takeshi are probably far enough away to not notice immediately, but the fog of panic is beginning to hit Kageyama full-force because _Hinata’s commanding voice turned him on_ and he’s not willing to wait around and ponder this development anymore.

“I’m going to the restroom,” he blurts, tripping over his words and backing away quickly. He doesn’t even remember to put the volleyball down, he just turns and _runs_. His ears are on fire, his neck feels like it’s sweating, and Kageyama mostly wants to slam his head against a locker because that was just so _stupid stupid stupid_.

Hinata blinks in surprise at Kageyama’s scattered words and hasty retreat. He exchanges glances with Tanaka. “Was it something I said?” He asks, wondering why Kageyama looked so flustered and scared. Surely he hadn’t _frightened_ his partner. Hinata looks at Takeshi. “Was I super scary again?”

“Not any more than usual,” he replies, relieved to have the attention off of him. “Though you’re always kind of scary when it comes to volleyball, so.” That might be true now, but Kageyama knew Hinata when it hadn’t always been that way. He was good at kicking Hinata’s ass when he got too fired up.

Hinata frowns. “I’m going to check on him,” he says. “He’s been acting weird all practice.” Hinata groans in annoyance. “I swear to god if he’s pretending he’s not sick again…” He stalks off, muttering to himself.

Takeshi and Tanaka watch him go, Tanaka with an amused smile on his face. “They’re rather close, aren’t they Tanaka-san?” Takeshi observes.

“Oh kid,” Tanaka whistles. “You have no idea.”

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Hinata’s still annoyed with Kageyama when he leaves the gym. It was so _Kageyama_ to keep playing until he passed out. Didn’t he know how valuable he was to the team? He was just going to make himself sicker by pushing himself, when he could rest and beat his illness faster instead. (Hinata was, of course, a hypocrite, considering he would rather play than rest too, but this was about Kageyama, not him.)

Sighing, he figures that whatever Kageyama has, it has to be pretty bad to make him run out in such an undignified manner. Actually, he could be throwing up in the bathroom and be really embarrassed about the whole thing. Hinata hesitates in pushing open the door. As much as he cared for Kageyama, wasn’t it cruel to humiliate him by watching him get sick? But Hinata still wanted to help…

He hops up and down in place, screwing his face up in indecision. _Kageyama so owes me for caring this much,_ Hinata thinks bitterly. _God, why is he so hard to understand?_ Eventually, Hinata figures that fuck it, he can be miserable on his own. _Enjoy the bathroom,_ Hinata grumbles to himself.

It’s then that he hears a tiny noise coming from behind the door.

Hinata freezes. It’s too faint for him to make out what kind of noise it is, really. It could easily be passed off as a pained noise, a noise of holding in laughter, or even just a squeak of a hinge. Hinata’s lying to himself about the last one, though. It was definitely a noise that came from a human being, and now he’s even _more_ conflicted. If Kageyama was in real pain, Hinata should get the nurse. If it was just a noise of misery, Hinata should leave him alone. _Shit, shit, shit._

But the truth of the matter is that Hinata is just too goddamn curious. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Kageyama vulnerable and weak. It’s a kind of horrible, shameful desire to see what Kageyama looks like when he’s torn-up, something Hinata knows he’ll regret the moment he sees it, but Hinata needs to prove to himself that Kageyama can fall, too. He sucks in a breath and pushes the door to the bathroom open as silently as he can.

Hinata slinks in, already feeling the guilt in his gut mingling with genuine concern for Kageyama’s health, creating a stew of unpleasantness that makes Hinata think he might need to use the restroom, too. It’s eerily quiet inside, no ugly sounds of retching or groans breaking the silence. Hinata’s about to turn the corner, nervous, when he hears the noise again. It’s not so quiet.

Kageyama’s choked whimper is so pitiful, Hinata’s stomach freefalls with worry. He whips around the corner of the restroom in a panic, but Kageyama’s not hovering over the sink or collapsed on the floor. There is, however, one stall with a closed door and Kageyama’s shoes beneath it. But he’s not standing in front of the toilet, he’s turned to the side, as if leaning against the wall. Hinata frowns.

The next whimper is louder, longer, and accompanied with a breathy gasp and the twitch of Kageyama’s sneakers on the tile floor. Realization hits Hinata like a freight train, and he whips back around the corner, leaning against the wall himself, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide.

_Kageyama was getting off in the school restroom._

Hinata’s cheeks burn his hand and he can’t look anywhere but the floor, repeating the epiphany over and over in his head, disbelieving. Suddenly, Kageyama’s flight from the gym makes so much more sense. In his place, Hinata would have probably done the same. But how long had he been in that…situation? It couldn’t have been comfortable at all to keep playing through something like that. Hinata feels all-new respect and terror for Kageyama’s dedication to volleyball. _Damn, at this rate, he’ll beat me for sure,_ Hinata thinks.

Kageyama full-on _groans_ , slamming his head against the stall, and Hinata jumps a foot, feeling his own dick jump a little in interest. Hinata shoves both hands over his mouth to keep down an indignant squeak because _holy shit, this could not be happening to him_. He can’t really be standing here, listening to Kageyama jerk off. He can’t really be getting excited by those noises, which were becoming more frequent the farther along Kageyama went.

Hinata leans back, closing his eyes and trying to think of things to distract himself. Spiking, how good it felt to smash the ball past a block, the tingly feeling of pain on his palm after the oddball quick strike, the satisfaction in knowing that Kageyama was _his_ setter, tossed for him _special_ …wow, this was _really not_ helping. Hinata mentally kicks himself. It’s just that sometimes he thought about Kageyama’s hands, or his thighs, or his smile (not the terrifying one) and it got kind of hard to breathe. Not that it meant anything.

_Then why haven’t you left yet?_ Hinata’s own voice mocks him. _Why are you still listening in like a pervert, drinking in his noises and straining your ears?_

_Shut up!_ Hinata snarls at himself, but despite his desperate efforts not to, Hinata does exactly that, listening hard to catch each one of Kageyama’s ragged breaths. There’s the brush against fabric, tiny choked sounds between breaths and moans, and then this other, more unintelligible _schlick…_

Hinata removes his hands from his mouth to ball them into tight fists, squeezing his eyes shut harder and gritting his teeth in a worthless effort to stop himself from fantasizing about what Kageyama’s face looks like, mouth hanging open and a line of spit trailing from side as he’s too blissed out to care, eyebrows pulled together tight at the pleasure. He tries not to picture one of Kageyama’s hands spasming, opening and closing in time to his toes curling in his shoes, while the other hand…

Hinata imagines Kageyama’s dick in his other hand, red and shiny from precum; the slow and exact way Kageyama would torture himself, sliding his hand up and down; and then the—very real—noises he would make.

Very quickly, Hinata finds he has to tighten his fist to keep from touching himself, too. He chances a glance down and sees how very obviously his pants are tented, apparent to anyone who might walk in…oh _god_ , someone might walk in and see him, _hear Kageyama_ …

Hinata has to warn Kageyama, even at the expense of his own dignity and the chance that Kageyama will know he was listening in on him. Hinata was _Hinata_ after all, but the senpai were something else altogether, and Kageyama would _die_ if they ever found out. Hinata’s just about made up his mind when Kageyama murmurs something—a word—not just a whimper or groan. Hinata hesitates. Waits to hear if he’ll say it again.

“ _Hinata,_ ” Kageyama whines, clear and needy.

Hinata’s knees very nearly go out. The tiny gasp that escapes is covered by Kageyama’s moan, but Hinata is woozy and he can’t see clearly and nothing makes sense. Kageyama was jerking off to _him_? Why…why the fuck would he…

A snarling voice. A sharp order. Before Kageyama had run, Hinata had snapped at him, hadn’t he? Then Kageyama had paled, murmured something from across the court, then said he needed to go and took off. _Could my voice…_ Hinata starts to wonder before shaking himself, knowing that he was being ridiculous.

“Hinata…oh, Hinata,” Kageyama breathes. “ _Touch me_.”

_Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,_ Hinata chants to himself, biting his lip until his mouth tastes salty. _Don’t you say it. Don’t you fucking say it._

“Ahh,” Kageyama sighs. “Yeah, like that. R-right there…” He breaks off into a high-pitched whine that makes Hinata’s dick jump _again_.

**_Let me touch you._** The thought is wild and uncalled for and Hinata nearly chokes on his own spit when it crosses his mind. He doesn’t want to touch Kageyama! (Oh, but he does, he _does_.)

“I’ll be good for you, so good for you,” Kageyama murmurs. “Anything you want, I’ll do _anything_ …”

_I want you to shut up. I want you to let me in there. I wish I never checked on you. I wish you had brought me with you._ So it was his voice. The voice his frightening alter ego had had turned Kageyama on and he wanted to be _ordered around_ by Hinata. He wanted to be _touched_ by Hinata.

_Just a little isn’t too bad, right?_ Hinata thinks, hand hovering over his shorts. _Just a little. If he can pretend I’m touching him, I can pretend to touch him, too._

The rate of Kageyama’s breaths has increased, and with it, so has his dirty talk. “Hinata, Hinata…yes, touch my cock, hold it just like that…faster, please, _faster_.” Hinata’s hand dives into his shorts, and when he finally touches himself for the first time, he lets out a tortured _ahhh_ in unison with Kageyama.

He’s s fucking _sensitive_ from all this filth he’s been listening that he nearly tears up at how good it feels to give in, touch himself, relieve just a little bit of the pressure that’s been building in his gut and behind his eyes so much he can hardly see, let alone hear Kageyama moaning his name and just what Hinata should be doing to him and it’s _dirty dirty **dirty**_.

“Ohhh, fuck… _fuck_ ,” Kageyama whines. He’s close; Hinata knows that sound from his own time in the bathroom at home, when the sound of the shower running could drown out his helpless cries before he came.

“Fuck, Hinata, _please_ ,” Kageyama begs. “Let me come.”

Hinata’s hand tightens around his dick and he holds in a squeak, working himself faster. Kageyama’s cries trigger something low in his gut, something fierce and protective and lustful that he never knew existed, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to be waiting around with his hand in his pants when Kageyama finishes. He pants lightly, too quiet for Kageyama to hear over himself.

_Holy fuck_ , Hinata thinks. _He’s too loud to hear me. That’s…_ But there’s really no adjective to express his grudging admiration, desire, and secondhand embarrassment all at once.

“Hnnggg—Hinata—Shouyou, I lo— _ah!_ ” Kageyama comes with an aborted yell, cutting himself off quickly. There’s a moment of silence, then the rustle of clothes and the flush of a toilet. The door to the stall swings open with a creak and water pours from the sink seconds later.

_That’s probably important,_ Hinata thinks, knees trembling. _That definitely means something._ But he’s _so close_ himself, that whatever it is that’s an issue can just wait until he’s done, he doesn’t need to worry about it yet…

Kageyama turns the corner to leave the bathroom and stops cold when he sees Hinata, slumped weakly against the wall, sweating and red-faced, his chest heaving and his hand down his pants, a blissed-out look on his face quickly changing to one of mortification and shock. And Kageyama can’t breathe.

They regard each other with mutual wide-eyed terror, Hinata even too afraid to pull his hand out of his shorts. His fight-or-flight instinct is completely offline, leaving his muscles frozen despite the urge to take off, change his name, and move out of the country.

“You…” Hinata starts, failing to come up with something more than that.

“ _You_ …” Kageyama returns, just as incapable of coming up with something to say.

_You could’ve just said something,_ Hinata thinks. _We’re all guys, we would have understood. You could have said you needed a moment to yourself._

_You could have told me what my voice did to you, how it wrecked you from the inside out._

Hinata swallows. “Why…why didn’t you just say…”

Kageyama jolts. “You…you heard…” His eyes drift down to the obvious bulge in Hinata’s pants and licks his lips nervously. Hinata can feel himself beginning to black out from a combination of fear and desire still urging him to finish the job.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbles, unable to do anything but stare straight at Kageyama and wish he was dead.

“And you…” Kageyama swallows again. He hasn’t looked away, _why hasn’t he looked away?_ But it’s not just mortification in Kageyama’s eyes, and there’s definitely no disgust. There’s…there’s just a little bit of _interest_ in Hinata’s reaction, and Hinata feels his heart start beating again, double time.

_What I heard were your truest wishes and fantasies,_ Hinata thinks. _Now you’ll hear mine._

He straightens up, cracks his neck just a little, but he feels calmer, more in control as Kageyama watches him warily— _excitedly_ —eyes darting. He pulls his hand from his pants and examines the precum on his hand with mild interest. His eyes shift back to Kageyama almost violently. Kageyama’s throat bobs. Hinata takes a step forward, Kageyama takes a step back. Another forward, another back.

Hinata backs him into the sink counter, so close he could roll himself against Kageyama like a cat, sigh into his ear, but Hinata doesn’t. He points to the stall Kageyama had just left. “You’re going back in there,” he says with a quiet danger that makes Kageyama shudder. “And this time, I’m coming with you. Then I’ll tell you _exactly_ what I was thinking about while you so rudely got off without me.”

For a moment, he thinks he’s overstepped his boundaries and is ready to apologize for everything, but then Kageyama’s eyes go half-lidded and he speaks in a voice just as low and sensual as Hinata’s: “Anything you want.”

Hinata smiles.

 


End file.
